Under Pressure
by The.Dust.Of.Jack
Summary: A short little ficlet about the pressure L and Light face during the Kira investigation. LxLight


* * *

Title: Under Pressure  
Rating: Anyone  
Pairing: ...LxLight, I suppose.  
Warnings: I believe there are a few spoilers.  
Disclaimer: XD Ha! Funny. Death Note, nor Under Pressure, belong to me. By the way. Ef why eye.

Summary: A short little ficlet about the pressure L and Light face during the Kira investigation.

Author's Note: I'm feeling lazy and unimaginative…so it will be short :D

Author's Note 2: …I may have ripped a lot of lines out of the song. BUT WHO CARES? =D

Author's Note 3: Look Raley! I ain't killed no one! :o

* * *

The pressure L was constantly under tended to get too much a lot, but it was nothing, he knew, next to strain Light himself was having to endure.

But he had asked for it.

Well, no, _technically _he hadn't, and he wasn't asking for it now, either, as he seemed blissfully unaware of the fact he _was_ Kira and ignorant to the fact _he_ had killed hundreds. Perhaps thousands. But whatever.

But the stress L himself was under was practically illegal. It was one of those feelings that burned buildings down, puts people on streets, and (L winced a bit as he thought it, looking at Light and Soichiro working determinedly and dutifully) it was the kind of feeling that split a family in two.

But it was okay, according to them.

...No. It wasn't.

L could see past their eyes. They wanted love, peace, stability and even just a small chance at normality. Soichiro couldn't get that with his late nights, and then his wife constantly asking him where her son had gone, and Light couldn't get that with half his family being left in the dark to his position and the three top detectives in the world handcuffed to his left wrist.

Especially the one that was L.

L was weird for a reason, as was he secluded and restless: he'd seen the horrors the world had to offer.

Light was too naïve and – to be blunt – too innocent to understand that L hadn't enjoyed watching Light in that cell for those 50 days. He'd in fact found it sickening to watch Misa wish her own death upon her, and then only to turn to his first true friend, who'd scream "Let me out!", which wasn't much an improved state.

L would be scarred by that for as long as he lived.

He knew it was necessary, but that didn't make it better. In fact it made it worse - the fact that he'd most definitely hold his friend at such a lowly position for so long for some disgusting murderer? No, it wasn't right.

L wasn't strictly bothered by any religion, but he prayed silently to anyone that could hear him, real or not, that tomorrow would be better, would make his life seem brighter.

But so far each passing day had only gotten worse.

* * *

L was pacing.

Why he was pacing was beyond him, as he'd never _paced_ before in his life.

But he was uncomfortable without Light attached to him. He was nervous. Today was a very bad day indeed, and he could feel it.

Outside the weather was creating a pathetic fallacy just for him outside, his mood matched perfectly by the grey clouds.

But he hadn't noticed as he sat there kicking his brains round the floor in a manner that suggested irritation. If he was concentrating on himself, rather than breaking through the fog in his mind, he would have been even more annoyed. L was never _irritated_. Not outwardly, anyway, even if he was on his own.

A slapping of water hitting his window alerted him to the state of the weather.

Outside, it was pouring rain.

* * *

He was wet through, waiting, and sitting on the railing, looking down detachedly to the ground. He'd come out hoping to cool down, and help ease the murkiness in his head.

But it don't work, that's for damn sure.

His face was turned away from the door, his powerful mind also away from everything.

He sat like a blind man, silent in the heavy weather. He ignored Watari as the elderly man came to check up on him, and the other had left just as quickly.

He had sat so long there thinking of nothing, that when he saw Light in body and in his mind's eye – the smog sent packing so quickly it startled him – he had almost fell backwards off the slippery railing.

Light had grabbed him with reflexes of a ninja. He'd left go just as quickly when L was safely on solid ground.

"Don't do that!" L vaguely thought Light had said, hearing having been impared by listening to nothing but the harsh pounding of rain hitting the high, metal skyline of Tokyo. "You'll hurt yourself! You almost fell! Never mind Kira – it's _you _who'll give me a bloody heart attack."

L put a finger to his lips. "Shut up, Raito-kun." He smiled fondly up at the boy from his slouched position, and it made Light give him a suspicious look. It surged a powerful feeling inside L's chest to be stared down at with such intensity by such a beautiful boy. He almost shuddered.

"What's up with you?" Light asked, with honest curiosity. L wanted to tell Light about the feeling, but didn't know how. No matter, L was determined to let Light know. He'd felt it other times, but he'd lost his nerve to confront the boy about it. But not this time, no, sir. He opened his mouth to speak, but –

Whatever he was going to say died at his lips. He couldn't stop the wretched mask of pain cross his face, and Light was quick to notice and grab L's shoulders and try to make their eyes meet, but L refused to allow it. This was not the time, nor the place. Let him wait until his feelings – whatever they were – were willing to rise up unbroken, instead of slashed and torn.

Why they kept on getting destroyed, he didn't know. Maybe it was for the better; maybe it was to protect him.

He lost himself into a mad little chuckle as he felt his mask crack a bit more, and his eyes started to feel wetter, his vision going hazier with every passing second. This caused Light to worry more, and his face was set to the perfect expression of panic, but L didn't know how much of it was truly real. He couldn't bring himself to care either, as he lacked the will and energy to stop _himself_ from crying, never mind giving a sense of relief to another.

There was something he was missing, something he knew was there, but something that he couldn't figure out. He felt like a failure that had given himself one too many chances.

And he was angry at Light, with his pretty smiles, his fake eyes and his lies – all his mother fucking _lies_.

He didn't know why he was angry, either. He needed to stop that, and needed to give love one more chance to prove itself worthy of his time.

Love?

Yes, love. He'd known it was love all along, really. A really sick, slightly twisted, unhappy love.

So why can't you give the boy a chance?

Because 'love' was such a stupid, practically _old-fashioned _term that was used willy-nilly practically everywhere across the globe. Especially in America and England. Especially England.

It wasn't used to describe a never-ending feeling that was imposed on one without permission - in which you were reluctantly made to burden the pain and strife it caused one without a complaint and put up with the company of another whom was the one that caused this terrible feeling, even if you're uncomfortable, decomposed and creating just _more_ lies to make them happy and showing _more _fake smiled than you ever had done before.

No. It was used to describe smaller, happier feelings of delight, and even friendship and kinship. Love wasn't known for love any more. Love was known for happiness.

Love was something people didn't like, and people went out of their way to avoid. L certainly had followed this certain trend for many reasons.

Because love makes you stupid. Love makes you want to believe things you wouldn't have done otherwise. It made you make lame excuses to your friends so you could rationalize it to yourself as well as to them, and it made you blind to so many things. To so many bad things.

Because love dares you to care for not only that one whom you love, but also for those who needs the same care you're giving that "one-and-only". _People like himself, perhaps?_ L though; those on the edge of the night.

And love dares you to change our ways of seeing ourselves, and caring about ourselves. Which was something Light would never change, and L knew this. L knew that if Light was given the choice of L or a mirror, Light would pick the one that _didn't_ stare back at him with large, wild ebony eyes.

And this was why L knew they were never meant to be.

And as they stared at each other carefully, each with guarded expressions on their faces, L felt their last little dance had drawn to a close.

The silence was interrupted by L's phone ringing.

"Hello?" he answered, holding his phone in his own little awkward way that Light had always hated. "Yes, we'll be right down."

L looked down at Light. They tensed simultaneously, and L saw himself in the boy's conduct. _This _was real. _This _was true. _This_ was their selves... under pressure.

* * *

Author's Note: A 'self' being a personality, nature, identity, character and person.

Light _is_ attached by his left wrist. I've looked this up.

….actually, I'm quite proud of this one, considering the original idea was just to practically copy out the song and have done with it. It's like two and a half pages long instead. Not bad. Not bad at all :D


End file.
